


High

by kiath



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, New Zealand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-30
Updated: 2007-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiath/pseuds/kiath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Way back in 2007, a gossip blog reported some girl at a party shouting about how tiny Elijah Wood was ("He looks like a small boy"), just as the music cut out. Inspired by this, AbFic said: "If you ever wrote an angsty/fluffy fic about Elijah being called small in NZ in front of people (Dom) that he wanted to impress (Dom), and especially because for ONCE he didn't feel small because of the company he was in (Dom), then I would be most grateful..." So I did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High

He doesn't feel like a boy. Not now; not here.

He's used to being a child amongst adults - a little out of place but expected to hold his own all the same. He's so used to it that, for a few days at least, he's unsteady on his feet when he realises it isn't the case in New Zealand. Not now. Not _here_. It makes him giddy. It makes him stretch.

And then there's Dominic.

Dominic looks at him differently. No one has ever stared at him in this way before: upwards, gazing up and up, wanting to learn and explore on terms not their own. He feels dizzy when he stares down at Dominic from his vantage point, from the pedestal Dominic built.

He feels dizzier still as he swallows another mouthful of bottomless vodka cocktail. The snap of pineapple juice on his gums is almost enough to ground him, but then Dominic is pulling him away from the crowd and nothing can restore his balance. Dominic grazes fingertips along his jawline and sends two, three, fourfivesix, seven, seven, seven kisses to meet his waiting and expectant mouth; lips dry, altitude sickness, head spinning from the thinning air.

There's laughter; it cuts through eight, eight and nine. Dominic smiles against his mouth, hushes him with pursed lips and a _ssh, ssh, ssh_ which tickles his nostrils and filtrum and feeds his high.

Their accents are unmistakably Kiwi. He knows this now - not Australian, no sir. Normally so warm, it twists their words until they're shot through with pity and disdain.

"He really does, doesn't he?"

"Elijah? Oh yeah. He looks like a small boy."

The ground is rushing up to meet him as the sucker punch drags the air from his lungs. His head is no longer spinning from the altitude, but his drunken dismay, his boyish inadequacy. He feels every inch of his height, every inch he hasn't reached. He looks up at Dominic, and Dominic towers over him with a stature so rightly envied by little boys who don't belong at a grown-up's party.

And then Dominic bends his head, tilts down for ten, long and slow, a double-digit kiss that requires a hold tight and close, hands splayed between shoulder blades and rounding the curve of his lower back. And soon he's staring down for real as Dominic kneels in front of him, absorbing the way Dominic's fingers work on his fly and wrap around his cock.

Dominic stares at him, settling back on his heels and tilting his face once more. Only this time it's up. _Up, up and away_ , Elijah thinks, wetting his lips.

"You're no boy," murmurs Dominic, and Elijah sees stars all around him.


End file.
